


North Star

by themoonandmargot



Series: North Star [1]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Gen, M/M, Smosh Summer Games, SmoshWritingWeek2019, SmoshWritingWeek2019 - Day 1, Some angst, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: soulmark:a portmanteau, soulmate and birthmark. these marks are certain, inevitable, yet oh-so-possible for humans to ignore. they dictate not our lives, but the way we live them. soulmarks exist without any rule book or instruction manual. and for these reasons, many believe soulmarks ought to have never existed at all.





	North Star

**Author's Note:**

> For day 1 of the 2019 Smosh Writing Week, but more especially for @authorpocketcow on Tumblr. Thank you for your patience, happy reading :')

_First rule of soulmarks: there are no set rules._

_But in the nominal list of soulmark rules, the first goes as follows: everyone, and I mean_ _everyone,_ _has a soulmark._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

It's been a long time coming, but after the Defy explosion, after all the dust has settled, the Smosh family films their first real video about soulmarks.

They’ve referenced them here and there. They’ve made jokes about them, like everyone else does. They even made an Every Soulmark Ever a while back. But ultimately, soulmarks have largely been just _their business,_ if not the ever-insistant elephant in the million-subscriber room. Until now.

Olivia tells her story first, because it’s the easiest to tell out of everyone’s. She beams as she recalls the blotchy red mark she had on the back of her neck—stork bite, it’s called, since “storks like munchin’ on babies before delivering them, apparently”. It hid behind her hair for most of her life, unbeknownst to anyone except her family and her closest friends.

Then one night, after her second date with Sam, he slipped his hand beneath her hair to kiss her. She knew before she walked into her apartment that Sam was her soulmate, made official when she pulled her hair into a bun and positioned herself between some mirrors. In the low light of her bedroom, her neck was bare. And she didn’t hesitate to call Sam up, though it wasn’t until fifteen minutes later that he understood what all the fuss was about; there weren’t enough city lights during the night drive home to grant him a clear view of his unmarked palm.

The other stories of the group are not nearly as cute, but they’re still undeniably interesting. Mari’s arm mark disappeared after Peter tripped and grabbed onto her for support. Joven found it hilarious when Kate slapped his ass playfully and his mark vanished, with a stinging bruise to take its place. Courtney’s mark lasted for less than a day, right until her older sister held her newborn self in her arms.

Then come the stories that aren’t really stories—or if they are, they’re probably sad. These are the cast members whose soulmarks haven’t disappeared yet, who’ve lived and loved and had to say goodbye to people who were just _people_ and not _the one._ Not that the Smosh crew members are the type of people who only care about finding their soulmates.

(Or at least, not that they’d ever admit if they were.)

Damien fidgets as one by one, each of his friends divulges the history behind their soulmark. He’s on the far end of the couch, the last destined for this round of storytime, and right now he’d rather be anywhere else or dead. It’s not like he didn’t agree to be a part of this video; his friends would never force him to talk about something as personal as his soulmark. But when faced with the decision to opt out, Damien sensed something like a responsibility to speak.

Maybe he wanted the viewers who still have soulmarks to know that they’re not alone, that they’ve got an equally sad and lonely guy on their team. Or maybe he’s just hoping one of the viewers at home will have a mark that proves he doesn’t have to be so sad and lonely.

He listens, and listens, until it’s his turn to talk. All eyes are on him. Suddenly, the room feels ten times smaller. Then across the room, his best friend meets his gaze. Shayne smiles warmly, softly, and nods in reassurance.

And with that, Damien speaks.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_The second rule: soulmarks indicate the existence of one’s personal soulmate. Each person is born with one soulmark, as they have only one soulmate. There is no way to ascertain from the soulmark itself, using the naked eye or any technological means, whether one's soulmate is romantic or platonic. This distinction is determined and established through the development of the soulmates’ relationship._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

Once, Damien thought he had found his soulmate. _“Julia,_ we’ll call her.”

Julia was graceful and artistic and thoughtful. Julia practically lived with Damien, spent many a morning with him and his cats. Julia was Damien’s longest relationship. Julia loved Damien, and Damien loved Julia.

In fact, Damien loved Julia so much that one night he thought it a good idea to kiss her, in the way he thought he should kiss a soulmate. She kissed him back, followed him to his room and fell into the sheets with him, sacred and splayed along the edge of his bed.

They were both shirtless when Damien kissed her again. But he had no idea that kiss would be their last.

_Is it there,_ she murmured in the crook of his neck. _Is it still there?_

_Is what still there?_ he asked.

It was just a gentle push against his chest—all Damien needed to know that something was wrong. He scrambled to his feet and stood over her awkwardly, unsure what amount of space conveyed concern and respect at the same time. In retrospect, Damien can’t tell if Julia wanted either.

_Is what still there?_ he asked again, only to follow Julia’s worried eyes down her torso. Across the side of her stomach was a cocoa brown splotch, one that Damien had only seen in snap-quick shirt swaps. Julia sat up to inspect it closely, stretching and rubbing at her skin as if there were anything she could do to make it go away. Then she looked up at Damien’s stomach, where a similar mark sat.

Her shoulders sunk, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet, confused. _I thought…_

_Maybe it’ll fade later, or… or maybe this isn’t the right time._ They were pitiful sounds, the words coming out of his mouth. But Damien couldn’t help but sound desperate, not when he and his girlfriend were two soulmarks away from giving up _everything._

Slowly, Julia nodded, then slower, she turned away. Her brows were still furrowed when she reached for her shirt. _It’s sort of late. We should probably go to sleep._ Damien did not object.

Their night was sleepless, full of tossing and turning and cuddles that didn’t feel quite the same as they used to. Hours passed before Damien could feel his eyelids go heavy, but then he was roused by Julia, flipping on her back to stare at the ceiling. In the moonlight, her cheeks shone wet.

_I think I made a mistake,_ she sobbed.

The bed creaked when she got up. She apologized through sniffles, all while she rummaged through the dark for her things. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you. But you understand, right? I’m so sorry._ Damien was sorry, too, but maybe it didn’t seem that way, as he laid there and listened. He clung onto the waft of perfume as she passed by, etched into his mind the sound of soft footsteps along the floor. Then, with the final close of his bedroom door, Julia left.

Telling this story now, Damien is happy to say that Julia is not his soulmate. He’s grateful that he can spin this entire thing into a funny anecdote, that he can be honest without feeling too vulnerable. All of his friends have done a great deal to help get him here, without a doubt. Yet Damien can’t help but think that if there’s anyone who’s helped him the most, it’s Shayne.

Shayne, the first person he told about the breakup all that time ago. The first person who helped him laugh about the entire thing. The first person to acknowledge the inherent suck-y-ness of being marked, and the first person to make being marked feel less lonely.

Shayne, however, is but the _second_ person Damien wants to believe is his soulmate. Platonic, of course— _how convenient would it be for my best friend to be my soulmate, right?_

Across the room, Shayne still smiles. Damien smiles back, warmth in his chest. And the stars above them twinkle in mischief, reveling in the knowledge that soulmates are _anything_ but convenient.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_The third rule is the last: soulmarks appear as any one of the wide varieties of birthmarks, indistinguishable from any other birthmarks with which someone may be born. A person's soulmark completely disappears, however, when it comes into contact with the soulmark of their soulmate._

_Unfortunately, the soulmarks are not guaranteed to fade upon first contact. Because of this, it is rumored that there exists a certain fated instance, or a “right time”, for soulmarks to touch, though such an instance is not always random or unexpected. Rather, some soulmates have reported that the intentional connection of soulmarks caused the soulmarks to vanish._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

A day before Smosh Summer Games sweeps the cast into the dust and grime that is the Californian desert, Damien is finally packing. Or at least, trying to.

Since filming their video about soulmarks, Damien finds himself generally scatterbrained and more anxious than he already is. He has no choice but to let his luggage be a physical representation of his life right now: messy… and according to Shayne scrolling through the list on his phone, completely void of underwear.

Damien practically dies the moment he hears it, head sinking to his hands. _“Fffffrick. Daaaangit._ Stupid son of a… God, _of course_ I forgot underwear.” He shoots to his feet and marches to his underwear drawer. Trips like this one usually warrant a careful selection of clothing; this time around, though, he has only enough motivation to dig a handful of random pairs out his drawer and onto his already-cataclysmic luggage.

Shaking his head, Damien jams his luggage close and lugs it off his bed. “Ugh, thanks, dude. I don’t know what I’d do without your help. Like, who forgets to pack underwear for a trip?”

“Hmm, Joven did, two summers ago,” Shayne says. “He had to borrow yours, remember? And then when he gave them back, you said you would burn them in the campfire?”

Damien takes a moment to catch his breath, only to curse and fall into his bed beside Shayne. “Oh god, I’m not even sure if I remembered to do that,” he groans, sliding his hands over his face. “Why’d he have to give them back in the first place?”

Shayne shrugs, not that Damien is looking—eyes shut, mind in an entirely different dimension. Shayne watches beside him, hovers over his near-lifeless form, and opens his mouth to ask the obligatory best friend _okay, what’s up?..._ but then, as if fated, his eyes catch on something.

“Oh,” he says. “So that’s what your soulmark looks like.”

If Damien wasn’t gone before, he is now. He’s somewhere in space, amidst the cluster of stars that usually bully him from above. He’d rather stay up there and die of galactic asphyxiation, but then he musters the courage to smile and keep still, unshrinking from Shayne's gaze. "Yeah," he heaves, "it's, um, on my stomach. On my right side."

"Huh. That's weird." Shayne stares, quiet, and Damien senses him thinking so hard that he has to actively will his own body not to squirm under the attention.

“My soulmark is weird?” Damien huffs.

Shayne snaps out of his gaze to laugh awkwardly. “No, I mean, like… I don’t think I've ever seen it up close like this before. Like, that fact is weird.” Then Shayne’s face hardens, his eyes knowing and expectant. “Soulmarks are just weird in general, aren’t they?”

They stare at each other, lingering a second too long due to Damien’s lack of a response, until Shayne snickers and tosses himself into the sheets. Damien scoffs in return. He knows Shayne’s only waiting for an explanation—of why Damien’s acting weird, of why Shayne needed to help him pack today, of why years and years of friendship was never enough to open the Pandora’s box of soulmates.

Damien sighs. An explanation… he at least owes Shayne that. So he finally gives one.

“I’m terrified that it won’t work out,” he murmurs at last. “Every day, I think something might happen but then I just disappoint myself. And when I try to take hold of anything… I get hurt.” Then his voice goes low, dropping to a whisper. “I’m so cynical about the entire thing that I’m not even sure I want a soulmate anymore.”

Damien lets out a breath, heavy with the fear of crying. He expects Shayne to shoot down his worries, but in his peripheral, Damien sees his friend chew on his thumbnail in thought. Shayne shakes his head. “That’s not true. Everyone wants a soulmate, Damien. It’s just that no one wants to get hurt.”

“Some people never get hurt!” Damien bellows, throwing his arms down onto the bed. “I mean, I don’t want people to get hurt, but… Courtney never had to wait for her soulmate. My parents met each other before they were my age. You don’t even know who your soulmate is and you–”

Shayne whips his head up to glare at Damien, mouth snapping shut in frustration. “I what?” Shayne presses. “Do you seriously think that you’re the only person who’s been hurt because of a soulmark?”

Damien drags his hands over his face. “No, I swear that’s not what I meant. It’s just… if last week’s video meant anything, it was that none of my friends are really as worried about this entire stupid soulmate situation as I am.”

“You’ve never really seen my soulmark, either, have you?” Shayne spits. His eyes are bright, frantic, begging for an answer Damien doesn’t have. “Don’t you think you would’ve seen it by now if I wasn’t worrying just as much as you are?”

At last, Damien meets Shayne’s gaze. He knows his own reasons for avoiding soulmark talk, but up until now, he never really knew Shayne’s. And he almost laughs, because it’s only in a universe like theirs where best friends are afraid to check if they’re soulmates.

He doesn’t laugh, though, and eventually the silence pushes Shayne off the bed and to his feet. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here for you no matter what, you know that. And I don’t wanna say any one of us has it more rough than the other, because that’s a shitty thing to do,” Shayne gruffs. “But it’s not a competition. Some people are lucky. Most of us aren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Damien murmurs, sitting up. He trembles at the long-held truth on his tongue. “I think I’m just… jealous of everyone. For either figuring it all out or for not caring.”

Shayne presses his lips in a forced smile. “Well, don’t be jealous of me. Because I care a lot, and you know I haven’t figured out shit.”

Damien’s shoulders sink. He calls Shayne’s name, but he has nothing to say.

So like everyone in this room before him, Shayne leaves.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_Now, I wasn’t being completely honest when I said there are three rules involving soulmarks. Rather, there are three_ _main_ _rules involving soulmarks. There is a fourth rule, rarely discussed, as it deals with the fact that some people never find their soulmates._

_For this people have offered many explanations, none of which can ever be verified. Modifications to the body, from surgical procedures to freak accidents, allow for irreversible removal of soulmarks. Some people die and leave their marked soulmates behind. Some people's bodies are so blemished that keeping track of soulmarks becomes impossible. Thus, for a variety of reasons, many people fear that they will end up a part of the so-called “companionless minority”._

_But for others, this is not a problem._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

Shayne and Damien don’t argue. Not really, anyway. Not about things that matter. And never for longer than a day. No, they’re not technically fighting when filming for Smosh Summer Games rolls around.

But during the entire week of filming, it’s clear something is off. They avoid talking to each other during the entire drive, and when everyone makes it to their lodge, they’re noticeably underwhelmed about bringing their luggage into their shared room. Even as members of different teams, there’s a specific rivalry present between them that prior competitions never really brought out.

It’s especially clear on the third day of filming, during a round of “Catch Your Meal”. They shoot each other a look when they’re both chosen to play—a precarious meeting of eyes, more cautious and curious than bitter. Today, Shayne is shirtless and showcasing his soulmark for everyone to see, and after his own soulmark crisis, Damien can’t help but interpret it as one well-deserved _fuck you._ He just hopes it looks like they’re playing up the tension for the camera, even though they’ll probably never let this moment leave the editing room.

So soon enough, the first set of projectiles launch into the air. Damien’s proud to catch one, but somehow, seeing that Shayne has caught one himself cheapens his own gain.

Then they shoot out another group of “meals”. Damien’s teammate, Kimmy catches the rebound off his fingers. It calls for some team fanfare, full of celebratory whoops and high fives, but Damien still notices the lingering eyes beside him and the caught meal in Shayne’s hands.

With both teams tied, the third and final match with this set of players feels uncomfortably tense. The judges reload their cannons as the group readies itself, and Shayne and Damien find themselves standing in the same spot, right where the missiles have been landing. Damien isn’t sure if breaking the silence between them is the best decision, yet Shayne takes the initiative anyway.

“You’ve been doing a good job, Damien,” he says, eyes trained ahead of him. “Not a great job. But a good one.”

Lips quirking into a smirk, Damien catches the humor in Shayne’s voice and tosses it right back to him. “Thanks, man,” he says. “You’ve been doing… decent."

Shayne guffaws at that, flashing a grin that Damien returns just as easily. For a second, the universe tilts back into balance and they’re not “not-fighting” anymore. But in the distance there’s a fizz, and a pop, and any friendly feelings just regained between them goes flying like the rubber projectiles in the air.

Their eyes shoot to the sky and follow the high-flyer soaring over the entire group. Suddenly, there’s nothing more important to Damien than catching this meal before Shayne can, and his feet start moving before he can even register it.

_“I got it!”_

His own words sound strange to him—amplified, barreling out then back towards him as if they’re from somewhere else entirely. It takes far too long for him to realize that he’s hearing not only his own voice but Shayne’s as well, and he’s just a split-second too late to stop himself from running and leaning his entire body weight into a catch that really isn’t all that important, nowhere near the life-shattering event that’s about to take place–

_Boom._ The impact steals the breath from Damien’s lungs, flashing white before his eyes for an instant. Then he won’t remember it until later, but there are sounds—the both of them grunting, the thwack of heavy bodies colliding, the cracking of joints (but oh god, please not any bones). Weirdly, the fall is nice, a senseless thing after jamming his elbow into what felt like cartilage and bone. But gravity means it all comes crashing down, then crashing a few inches along the dry, abrasive ground.

Damien squeezes his eyes shut and hisses out a string of curse words through the dust. His skin burns so much that he nearly rolls over and loses his lunch from the pain. Luckily he’s not helpless, as he hears his friends gather around to check on him. They shoot him a storm of worried glances when he’s hoisted up by Joven and proven unable to stand by himself. But he falls to his knees just as willingly when he sees Shayne on the ground a few feet away, hand covering what looks like a bleeding eye.

“Fuck, Damien, your arm! Shit, are you okay?” Shayne rasps.

Damien laughs bitterly. “What are you talking about? I just bodyslammed you and you’re asking if _I’m_ okay? Jesus, Shayne. Can you sit up?”

Shayne groans as he props himself up into a sitting position. He’s definitely bleeding, but his friends are relieved to see that it’s from a gnarly nosebleed rather than a stitch-worthy gash. “I’m fine, it’s alright. I’m not even that scratched up,” he assures everyone. “I’m gonna be sore for a year, but it’s fine.”

Damien sighs and laughs in one breath; he’s exhausted beyond compare, but hearing that Shayne’s okay and already cracking jokes is working wonders to erase Damien’s pain. And he almost cracks his own joke—something about concussions, nothing too serious—when he sees it.

Shayne’s torso, the left side of him that Damien had just collided into. This is the soulmark that Shayne had described but never shown Damien until today, until _right now,_ as it disappears before his very eyes.

The edge of the soulmark creeps in, shrinking the entire spot and leaving clear skin in its path. It’s as if some supernatural, invisible being is wiping the splotch clean from one side to the other. It’s pure magic. And it has Damien lifting up his own shirt to see his soulmark doing the exact same thing.

Shayne’s eyes widen in shock, cloudy grey turned electric blue. “Damien,” he whispers.

Damien forgets to speak, almost even forgets Shayne’s name. Meanwhile, the group gasps and murmurs around them. Some celebrate. _Oh my god, you’re soulmates!_ Courtney squeals in the distance.

Damien doesn’t know what he feels when Shayne offers him a stunned smile and says, “We’re… we’re soulmates!”

He swears he feels something drop within him when Shayne goes to reach for his hand, then takes his wrist instead.

And Damien doesn’t feel a thing when his head drops heavy and the entire world goes black.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

During the minute he’s unconscious, Damien is young again.

He’s suddenly a chubby little kid, the one who does karate in his free time and plays video games in his _real_ free time. He’s also in the kitchen of his childhood home, sitting across from his father as he gives the talk, though not the one about birds and bees. This is the harder talk—the one about soulmates.

_But how will I know if my soulmate is the lovey type or the friendly type?_ he asks, brows furrowed.

His father smiles. _Well, I sure hope your soulmate is both of those types,_ he says. _But you’ll know if your soulmate is romantic or platonic by feeling it yourself, in your heart. Not now, but later, when you find them._

Damien huffs. _So I won’t even know if they’re lovey or friendly until I “find” them?_

_You might not even figure it out then. Soulmates take time, Damien,_ the man says, earning a groan from his son.

_I don’t wanna figure it out. I don’t even want a soulmate. The world is gonna throw some person at me that I have to like and I don’t even get to choose who it is. And now I need to have this stupid birthmark on my body… It doesn’t make any sense, and it’s not fair!_

Damien watches as his father exhales and shifts in his chair. He gets the feeling that he’s about to get a stern talking to from his dad, but then he hears quite the opposite. Damien doesn’t know it yet, but these words will stay etched in his mind and heart for the rest of his life.

_You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. And a lot of it doesn’t seem fair. But it's still your life, and you still get to decide what you want. Damien, your mother and I didn't fall in love, get married, and have you and your sister because our soulmarks said we should. We did that because we both knew we wanted to._

_Soulmarks themselves are useless. They’re just something on your body—on everyone’s body, so there’s no reason to feel bad about them. But when you let your soulmark do its thing, it becomes a north star. It guides you and it takes you to a place where you're happiest. But at the end of the day, you're the one who takes the first step. If you find your soulmate and you think you only like them as a friend, that’s fine. If you like them more than that, that’s fine, too._

_Your soulmark is proof enough that the universe is on your side. And if you can't trust the universe, then know that your family, your friends, everyone who loves you… we’re here for you, too._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

Damien's senses come back to him the same way his soulmark left—slowly, trickling back, as if aware and cautious of its own movement. He realizes he hasn’t been out for long, as he wakes with the ground hard beneath him and his friends around him. They seem relieved to see him awake and okay; they don’t know just how relieved he is to see them, too.

His left arm and leg sting when they help him to his feet, but the other side of his body feels fine, if not heavy and just slightly sore. _And empty,_ Damien thinks, scoffing, because losing a mark that tormented his body for almost three decades somehow makes him miss it.

But he hasn’t really lost anything, not when he’s gained something in return. He has Shayne, his best friend, soulmate _(woah),_ Summer Games roommate, and apparently, as they make it to their room, his post-passing-out caretaker.

“Uh, okay,” Shayne breathes, closing the door behind him. “They said they’re gonna find ice for your ankle, so for the meantime, I’m just gonna… keep ya company. Make sure you don’t break yourself even more than you already have.”

Damien presses his lips in a smile and plops down on his bed. “Thanks,” he says. “But I’m fine now, really. Well, _I_ am, but maybe my team won’t be.”

“Oh, please. Your team was doomed from the start. But sure, blame it on your busted ankle,” Shayne spits, before laughing and cradling his head in hands. “Oh, god, what am I saying? Sorry about your ankle, first of all, but also… holy shit, Damien, we’re _soulmates!”_

He laughs again, joining Damien at the foot of his bed. His giddiness is infectious, and soon Damien’s giggling along with him and carding his fingers through his hair at the thought of _soulmates, them,_ _soulmates_ _._ Damien shakes his head and sighs, _“Jesus._ And to think just yesterday we were freaking out about…”

Damien stops to chuckle at the irony of it all while Shayne nods and folds his body over itself. “I know, I know. Scared about nothing.”

_Well, not nothing,_ Damien thinks, but he ignores that thought, just for now. “Is this… am I who you pictured when you imagined your soulmate?” he asks.

Grinning, Shayne unfolds himself and looks up in thought. “Sort of,” he replies. “But also, no.”

“Yeah.” Damien pauses. “Yeah, same here.”

“It’s just… the word ‘soulmates’, y’know? People always hype up the romantic ones, so when you imagine your own soulmate, that sort of thinking is just automatic, like…”

“The romantic type becomes the default.”

The room drops to silence, only for a second before someone knocks on their door. Shayne answers it, graciously accepting Matt Raub’s bag of ice then handing it off to Damien. It’s a weirdly wordless interaction, with Shayne settling back on the bed as Damien places the ice bag on his elevated ankle. In reality, there’s a storm of words swirling in their heads. And neither of them want to voice any of them, until Shayne pulls his knee under his chin and smiles softly.

“Damien, you know we don’t have to be romantic soulmates.”

Damien twitches. _Not nothing._ “No, I know,” he says. “I’m not saying we are.”

Then Shayne’s voice goes quieter. “But we don’t have to be platonic soulmates either.”

For the second time that day, Damien’s world falls from underneath him. The years of his life unravel before him, all the time spent worrying about things that were never quite in his grasp—those he loved, those who loved back, everyone in between who could've just as easily been the one. There’s a deeper reason why he’s rarely tried to find his soulmate, never even considered legitimately trying with the people to which he’s closest.

Finding a soulmate amidst the sea of people sounded difficult; expecting true happiness even after the fact felt impossible. _Blind dating with a side of “this has to work out or else the universe is wrong”_ —how can anyone end up happy with all that weighing on them?

Damien nearly caved under the pressure, just almost. But his soulmark guided him here and for once he feels like he has a say in something.

For once, he knows the universe is on his side.

“No,” Damien says, the most honest he's ever been. “Shayne, I’m sorry for being inconsiderate and selfish, and for expecting things out of you when I wasn’t giving them in return. That’s not what soulmates do. That’s not what _best friends_ do. And that’s all I want, to be your best friend.

“All this time, I thought that soulmates were straightforward and cookie-cutter, just one of two things. Your entire relationship with this one person is already predestined to be perfect, but you still have to work at it. You still take the first step. And it sounded easy enough, but then I fell in love and made friends and I was left wondering… how do you take the first step with someone you’ve already walked miles with? Will the feelings still be there when the universe tells you they have to be there? Won’t things change? How am I _not_ gonna screw up the most important relationship I’ll ever have in my life?”

Shayne shakes his head, reassuring his friend. “Damien…”

“We’re soulmates, but I don’t want that messing with our heads more than it has to. We’re not relabeling ourselves because of this. We’re not gonna start questioning things just because we’re soulmates. We’re _us.”_ Damien looks away, uncertain and apprehensive, before sheepishly glancing up. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

Ever so slowly, Shayne’s face twists into a touched smile. He pulls Damien into a full embrace and coos, _“Damien!_ I don’t know how we got this far thinking we weren’t soulmates when we’re both the biggest worriers in the entire world. We’re practically made for each other!”

Damien laughs, pulling his arms around Shayne. “Well, technically, yeah. We are.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Shayne chuckles before releasing Damien. He meets Damien’s eyes. “But you’re right. We’re us, and being soulmates doesn’t change that. I want us to stay best friends, and that’s all we have to be. Just how we’ve always been.” Then he squishes his face between his hands and titters. “Just a pair of dumb idiots.”

“Ugh, seriously,” Damien giggles, making a point by raising his foot. “Speaking of, you might want to track down another bag of ice for your eye because that sucker is _bruised,_ my dude.”

“Wait, what? Really?” Shayne jumps to check the only mirror in their room. He takes a moment to turn and inspect his face before sighing, then shrugging. “Eh, that’s alright. This works with the whole apocalypse aesthetic, anyway.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I guess it does,” Damien says. “So, you’re welcome.”

Shayne snorts and shakes his head, making Damien giggle even more. The room turns warm with the anticipation of something new between them, yet also something always there. Maybe being unmarked will flip their entire relationship on its head, or maybe it’s already changed. But right now, as far as they’re concerned, this moment is eternal.

Eventually, the laughter dies down and the room goes quiet, though open and lighthearted. Damien decides to break the silence. “But genuinely, I’m glad you feel the same way and that everything’s okay.”

“I’m glad we’re soulmates,” Shayne says.

“Me too,” Damien replies, from the bottom of his heart. Then quieter, he sends a message to the skies up above.

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

_Since soulmates are not automatically granted the chance or opportunity to touch soulmarks, many people choose to ignore their soulmarks in their daily lives, perhaps even abandoning the search for their soulmates. While many care deeply about their soulmarks, there are a multitude of reasons for why someone would feel the opposite. Some find the idea of soulmates rather restrictive. Others are intimidated by it._

_Now, this raises many questions regarding the validity and morality surrounding soulmarks. How can we trust soulmarks when we can just as easily ignore them without any discernible repercussions? Are we doing our soulmates wrong by rejecting the mere chance of them finding true companionship?_

_It’s not straightforward; it never will be. But all this makes the fourth rule especially clear: soulmarks dictate not our lives, but the way we live them._

**~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~**

(Thank you, north star.)


End file.
